A funeral: A memory

I attended a funeral for the first time when I was six. I remember the fragrance of incense. I knew my grandmother was exasperated with me for not being sad. I tried to at least look sad but I could not. My cousins who were abroad had a valid reason to not cry since they only knew him proxy. My cousins who had stayed anchored to roots were simply at their best of tragic dimensions. I had no valid reason because i was an annual visitor and lived in another state in india. I had no say because i was just six and my parents worked outside our native place. Still since i lived in india and since i was above five i was expected to understand i guess.But I could not weep, i tried to feel sad but all i managed to think of was the chicken i would eat forty days later as was the ceremonial custom rites. I was aware of my aunt's red eyes reddish not just of the tragedy glare at me as i floated by imagining myself to be an angel. Twice one of my elder cousins warned me to stay at one place..why? I asked her. She gr.. grd... you funny girl it is a funeral. I again tried to feel tragic... to look tragic but could not. I liked the fragrance of the incense .... But then i guess since he breathed no more only i could see through the joke and smile. The maid pulled me by my arm and took me aside. She lectured me for at least fifteen minutes and gave an exasperated look at my face. Finally a cousin almost a decade older than me led me outside the house  and said if you dont behave well I will not let you eat any of the chicken...Before she could complete her statement I felt tremendous grief and broke down at the suggested possibility that I would be denied my dreamt about chicken fry. When she took me inside the house, i was swollen eyed... a face wrought with tragedy... of the pain of loss.... and my grandmother who mistook it for a grand daughter's grief held me and said " dont worry my child grandpa will always be there"....   I felt my little heart beat faster....as i thought of the chicken feast.